


I've Watched You Grow

by Fianna9



Series: Watching 'verse [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Disability, F/M, Family Secrets, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fianna9/pseuds/Fianna9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The contemplations of a carrier at her creation’s bonding celebration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Watched You Grow

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, however, my husband owns several hundred transformers. All I own are the names of some OCs in this fic.
> 
> This story was originally written for the prowlxjazz livejournal 2011 challenge. The prompt was Surprising Origin. In the spirit of the original challenge, I've left certain characters (including the narrator) to be revealed at the end of this fic. Also, a small warning for Cybertronian-style cursing.
> 
> Special thanks to taralynden for looking this over. I am laying claim to any and all mistakes.
> 
> Finally, for the purpose of this series, the stages of advancement for new Cybertronians are sparkling, youngling, mech/femmeling, adult.

Wow, it’s been vorns since I’ve seen you, and I find out you’re getting bonded to that mech? Everyone else seems happy for you. I hardly know what to think. So much of it hurts to remember, but everything has lead up to this point.

I guess I could blame it all on that cold-sparked pit-spawn Tangent. I remember what he did to us…no me. He never even knew you existed, bitlet. The pit-spawn was so kind to me initially. He slowly seduced me…He told me how he wanted to bond with me and raise a family together…everything I had ever wanted. He wormed his way into my spark and my berth. Filter and Sprocket were so pleased when they met him; they thought he was worthy of their only sparkling. They showed him around and introduced him to everyone they knew, and they gave us their blessing when I left, even though it meant I was going to be across Cybertron from everything and everyone I’d ever known.

Then they offlined in that tragic “accidental” explosion on the way home. There I was collapsed on the floor, a trembling wreck, and he walked through the door. I reached for him to comfort me, and, Primus…. He stabbed me, bitlet, and he threw me into a compactor to make me disappear. All he had wanted me for was my creators’ connections and credits. The glitch-spawn had hacked the Network, listed me as dead with my creators and, as my falsely listed bondmate, stolen everything I was supposed to have. He just threw me out when I had served my purpose.

Luckily, I was able to drag myself out of there before it was turned on. Unfortunately, I had no identity anymore. I found out the hard way that he even covered his tracks by telling the enforcers that a “low class prostibot” had attempted to impersonate his dead mate. I couldn’t get anyone to believe that I was who I said I was, and I found myself on the streets.

I almost lost you, bitlet. As it is, I blame the pit-spawn for your perceived defects. It was difficult to get enough to keep both of us online let alone healthy, and I know it affected your development. I went to the free clinic for poor ‘bots, but I heard the medic say that, with your poor prognosis; they should “extract it” because you would be a waste of resources. I slipped out and never went back; I just knew they wouldn’t ask for my permission; they would just terminate you. I had no other way to trade for energon or shelter; the pit-spawn had stolen it all. I was reduced to selling my frame and stealing to survive. I don’t know if we could have continued for that much longer on our own.

To this cycle, I still don’t know what made those two break all the regulations they were sworn to uphold. Maybe Primus finally decided to smile down on us. They should have taken me in for theft; I’ll admit I stole that energon practically in front of them. Something made them see more than just a thief; something made them pay for what I had taken. They hustled me to a small, out-of-the-way place; I thought they were going to offline me or worse. Instead, they gave me the energon to drink and asked me why I was stealing. Something in their optics made me break down. I screamed that I was a carrying whore; I cried out that the clinic said that my bitlet should be terminated. I looked up, and I will never forget their two horrified faces.

They invited me into their home; it was barely big enough for the two of them to have berths but they insisted that I would not be calling it home. Instead of treating me like filth, they treated me like I was precious crystal. They actually debated over who got to lie and claim you, bitlet. They both had badly wanted a sparkling, and through me, they saw the opportunity to finally have one of their own.

They knew that I needed to be seen by a medic, and they swore up and down that this medic wouldn’t do anything bad to you. They swore that they had known him forever, and Ratchet would shout down and beat senseless anyone trying to harm a sparkling in his presence no matter whom it was. It took a lot of persuasion, but I knew that you needed help that we didn’t have the knowledge to give. Ratchet was disgusted when he found out why I was so scared of him, and he did everything he swore that he would do--everything he could--to make certain that you turned out to be as healthy as possible. He told us that you were a mechling and helped us prepare for your arrival. I know that he strongly suspects that neither of them were your creator, but he’s never actually asked us about it. I’m certain that he still keeps a close optic on you.

I came up with a cover story that would allow both of them to properly take care of you and act as cocreators. They told everyone that we’d gotten together, and I’d accidentally sparked. They took some ribbing, but it explained why I was carrying and moving in with an established pair. I swear, those two bought everything a sparkling could possibly want or need. They were obsessed with learning everything they could about your needs and possible desires. It was so funny when it came time for your extraction. They paced and ranted, worried about every possible thing that might go wrong or be forgotten, all while trying to keep me calm and collected. I was laughing so hard at them, and Ratchet was muttering about crazy overprotective mechs.

They were so happy when you finally came online. We knew that your frame would probably be different from theirs, so they waited until they knew what you’d look like before they forged identity papers for me. We caused them to break more rules than they had before or since, but they still swear to this orn that they never regretted it once. Seeing the love and affection in their faces as they looked at you melted the crystal around my spark.

Ratchet had warned us that there might be residual damage from the trauma and starvation during your carrying time. Even though we thought we were prepared, nothing could prevent our despair when we found out you had innate, unrepairable optical damage. Ratchet swore that your frames advanced sensory systems could adapt to the difference, especially since you were so young. He neglected to list it in any public medical file, because he knew the higher-ups would want you terminated because of your defect. I can’t image what any of us would have done if we’d lost you.

Ratchet was determined to stay your medic and would have hit us all over the helms if we tried to find another. Not that we would have since he was practically your grandcreator by this point. When we brought you in because you wouldn’t stop crying, he warned us that your audio receptors and secondary sensory systems were unusually acute, and that loud noises would always be a problem. We had to lower the volume on the music after that, which I’m certain the neighbors appreciated.

As far as the rest of the city was concerned, bitlet, you grew up with two creators and a carrier. They both doted on you; you could do nothing wrong in their optics. They bragged about you all the time at work and showed vids of you off to everyone they knew. I treasure the memories of them chirping and clicking at you, cradled securely in their arms. We used to stand watching you while you recharged. I swear they were almost disappointed when it came time for you to get your first upgrades; they said that they were losing their little bitling. Ratchet smacked them for that one.

I remember the first time you began crawling, and how determined you were to explore everything. It took everything we had not to smother you with help, but they reminded me that you would have to learn to take care of yourself. You were always so curious about what was going on around you. You learned to walk remarkably quickly and were a little terror, racing around the room and getting into everything.

Most sparklings chew on things; you licked them. I swear every time I turned around you were licking the walls or a datapad. Ratchet said it was just another way to study your surroundings. It was funny listening to him say that while you were behind him licking his wrench. I’m just dying to pull those vid files out later; but it wouldn’t do to embarrass you in front of anyone but your dearest friends. Elita loves them.

As you grew older, it was easier for us to help you hide your vision problem. We learned that you could see, just not very well and with very little detail. Your focus was more on your sensors; the patterns, movements and shapes that your sensory wings detected. We taught you to read through direct linkup to datapads rather than scanning them. No one thought anything of it because your co-creator has always had a reputation for being security conscious. Okay, paranoid.

Bitlet, you were so open and friendly back then; I swear you couldn’t process that anyone might be an enemy. I got a job as a dancer, and the three of us worked hard to earn enough for you to have the best possible upgrades. They talked about modifying a visor, but Ratchet said it wouldn’t fix your problems.

If it wasn’t for the fact that your co-creator has lived with a glitch his entire existence, I don’t know what I would have done when you locked up for the first time. As it was, they knew exactly how to get you rebooted and help you deal with the processor ache. We rushed you over to Ratchet, who determined that it was also preextraction damage. He told us not to worry too much. The damage couldn’t be severe because it hadn’t shown up until now, and your systems had adapted to it.

You had your first crush not long after your first upgrade. I wonder if you remember how often you trailed after Wheeljack when he stopped by to visit Ratchet. Poor ‘Jack couldn’t turn around without seeing your eager face and hearing you beg him for stories. Ratchet loved it and wanted him to move here permanently, mostly because ‘Jack was too afraid of hurting you to work on anything risky while you were around. Unfortunately for Ratchet, you grew out of it before ‘Jack agreed to move.

Your youngling vorns went by too quickly for us. We were so proud when you decided to become an enforcer and went to the academy. Ratchet certified you as fit; he said that your sensory systems were better than most mech’s optics. It was hard having you so far away, but you seemed happy there. You sent us so many messages about your classes and your new friends. We watched at a distance as you matured into the fine mech you are now.

Times were getting harder, and there were disgruntled ‘bots everywhere. I can sympathize with the lower classes that initially sided with the Decepticons; I know what it’s like to never know where your energon is going to come from next. Your cocreators grumbled all the time about new regulations and restrictions and how they were hurting the very citizens that should be protected.

I remember your first real lover, the one you commed us about afterwards. I wanted to terminate him; he was so much like the pit-spawn. You admitted that he abused your trust and your frame, but you refused to tell us everything that he did to you. To this cycle I wish Soundwave could have been properly punished, but he disappeared into the Decepticons. You changed so much after that; only family saw any trace of the mech you once were. Oh, you would smile sometimes for us, but it never reached your optics. You threw yourself into your work, striving to be the best. You succeeded in that, but did so by keeping everyone else away. I know you tried to pretend that you didn’t care, but no one can be that alone and cold forever.

We were all so worried about you. The two of them joined the Autobots when you did so they could keep an optic on you. They discretely followed you from base to base, watching you move up on the ranks and isolate yourself even more.

I thank Primus every jorn for those two, you know. They did a great deal to shape you into the mech that you are today. Your dedication to your responsibilities and your loyalty came from them. They’re the ones that taught you to follow and obey the rules, but that the rules should serve the public good and not just a privileged few.

Oh, bitlet, I’ve missed you so much.

They told me that this is finally The One. That he does everything he can to make you happy; he broke through your walls. That you smile more again, and you’re slowly opening up again. That this one’s been good to you, and that he takes care of you. They should know; they’ve been there for you when I couldn’t be around. I hope you’ll be happy bitlet, and I’m certain they’ve got enough dirt on him if you’re not.

A familiar, warm voice over the comm interrupted her introspection. “Star, I’m gonna drag Red outta the Security box and we’ll meet ya down there. After all, we gotta toast our bitlet gettin’ bonded.”

Firestar got up and went to grab two more cubes of highgrade for her two mechs; Red and Inferno would be down soon enough. The raucous celebration in the Rec Room continued around her, as Jazz bounded to his ‘pedes and dragged a semi-reluctant Prowl out onto the dance floor.

Smirking slightly, she thought _‘Hopefully Tangent, or I guess I should call you Onslaught now, you’ll never find out that Prowl was actually yours. We’re certainly never going to tell him.’_


End file.
